Lak's Story
by BobWhite
Summary: This story is from the book Kit's Wilderness. I didn't like the ending so i'm redoing it. The story so far is the work of David Almond. I DO NOT own this story, only the ending of it. Hope you like it. Please R&R to find out more. Read book, let me know.


**This story is from the book **_**Kit's Wilderness**_**. I'm just finishing it. I didn't like ho it ended in the book, so I'm adding my own ending. Don't hate me for this or anything.**

**Lak's Story:**

His name was Lak. He was fourteen. He wore the skin of the bear he'd killed. Deerskin was wrapped around his feet. He gripped the stone axe that had belonged to his grandfather. The baby Dal was wrapped against his chest. The dog Kali lay at his side. He squatted on the crag & gazed down to the river of ice below him. Ice was everywhere, in the valleys, in the cracks of stones, in the fissures of rock, in his hair, in his eyebrows. It covered the world: bare rock above & ice beneath. It glistened & gleamed in the morning sun. Lak narrowed his eyes against the glare. He peered across the world, searching for smoke rising, for a sign of humanity, of his lost family. He saw nothing, just the white ice, the dark rock, the great blue sky, the low yellow sun.

He called out: "Ayeeeee!"

His voice came back to him from the ice & rock it echoed & died away as it traveled down the valley:

"Ayeeeee! Ayeeeee! Ayeeeee!"

The dog lifted its head, stared out, ears pricked.

Lak laughed. "It's only me," he said. "Me echoing forever on the ice."

He reached into his bearskin, touched the baby, felt her swaddled close against his skin, felt her warm lips, felt her warm cheek.

"It will be fine," he whispered. "Keep calm, my love. It will all be fine."

He crawled on the crag. He found the tiny thorny plants that grew sparsely there, the only things that grew now. He picked them, shoved them into his mouth, chewed, swallowed, twisted his face, spat. Bitter-tasting things. Sharp on the tongue, acid in the belly. He took a tiny blossom, the only sweet part of the plant, moistened it with saliva, held it to the baby's tongue. He felt her lick.

"Keep calm," he whispered. "Perhaps there will be berries this day."

He held a plant on his palm for the dog. It licked, didn't eat, turned its hungry eyes forlornly to its master. Lak grunted, stroked the do. "Perhaps there will be meat for us this day, Kali."

He moved on, holding the bearskin close around him, heading south, sheltering the baby, holding the memory of his family within him, feeling the ice in his bones.

It had happened at night, days back, weeks back. They were in the cave, a shallow defenseless place above a frozen river. It was a stopping-off point, a night's shelter in the endless journey south. They were all in there, his mother, his father, his brothers, his sisters, crouched together against the wall. They had a meager fire, built from logs he'd helped his father to wrench out of the ice. Lak leaned against his mother, stared at the entrance. His father snored, pale moonlight trickled in. his brothers and sisters slept silent, innocent.

"What is the bitterness he holds for me?" he whispered.

"Hush," his mother whispered.

"What is it?" he whispered. "As I pull the timber out I saw such anger gleaming in his eye. And when I stumbled as I carried it he hit me. He took my throat. There was the glare of a beast in him. I saw it again when I sparked the flint, again as the first flames flickered."  
She stroked his brow. "Hush," she whispered.

"What is it?"

"He was once like you, but the perils of our world have changed him. He sees in you the strength that was once him. The strength that in him is fading."  
Lak watched his father in the flickering light.

"And where is the love he held for me?" he whispered.

"Hush, my son. Leave these thoughts alone. There will come a time when you alone must be our strength and guide. Prepare yourself for it." She stroked his brow. "Lean on me, my son. Sleep. I will watch the entrance."

And Lak slept, and dreamed of his grandfather, of the old man's tales of the time when the sun shone warm, and green grass and trees filled the valleys.

The snarling woke him, then the sound of his mother's screams…


End file.
